


Crush

by stephanericher



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: M/M, Teikou Era, midokise week 2k15
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-07
Updated: 2015-07-07
Packaged: 2018-04-08 02:40:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4287639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stephanericher/pseuds/stephanericher
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Midorima's been thinking about Kise way too much lately.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Crush

**Author's Note:**

> midokise week day 1: teikou era!

Crushes are something you’re supposed to have—at least Midorima gets the impression that that’s the way it goes. Many of his classmates claim to have them, and at first it’s mostly girls, mysterious words exchanged behind cupped hands and in notes on pretty paper passed under desks and then it spreads to the boys’ mouths, that someone likes Osame or Uotani or even Aomine (and that girl, Midorima decides, must have terrible taste)—and then that boy either ignores it or gets red around the ears when the girl in question tries to talk to him and then the other boys tease him about how much he must return her feelings. And it seems to Midorima that neither one of them seems to like the other at all—what with the way they avoid each other and look as if they want to puke when they talk to each other, this has to be an odd sort of liking.

After all, Midorima likes his friends well enough (if he actually can call Akashi and Murasakibara his friends, which he’d like to be able to do) and because he likes them he enjoys spending time with them and seeks them out—Akashi to play shogi with (if he’s not too busy, which he always seems to be, but he’ll make time for Midorima which Midorima supposes is what friends do—hopes fervently, because even if he’ll never be on that same awe-inspiring level as Akashi maybe they can be something like friends) or Murasakibara to study with or hang out with because while they don’t often see eye-to-eye Murasakibara generally isn’t too noisy when he’s not eating potato chips. And he doesn’t want to kiss them (to him the entire act seems unnecessary and a little bit unsanitary and almost revolting) or hold hands with them. And he doesn’t want to want that (especially not with Akashi or Murasakibara; he doesn’t want to stop enjoying their company) and therefore decides at the conclusion of his first year of middle school that he will never have a crush on anyone.

After all, not all of the girls have had them (or have said they have, or have been revealed by someone in proximity to Midorima to have had them) and only some of the boys are taking interest in any of that stuff. And so the husk of second year pulls away as an ear of corn is peeled, and more and more boys are getting crushes and changing their minds on who it is they like (and one of the girls supposedly likes another girl from another class) and Midorima tries not to pay attention. He reminds himself that he doesn’t want a crush, and that it looks like an incomprehensible waste of time to have one—everyone is obsessing over tiny looks when they could be studying for the literature test next week, damn it. It’s just another thing that Midorima doesn’t get, when a classmate taps him on the shoulder and asks him doesn’t he think that girl likes that guy and he has no idea what clues he’s supposed to be looking for so he just shrugs.

And then something happens. Kise Ryouta happens. Like a sparkler on the loose in the middle of Teikou’s first string, like a shining burst of vibrancy, a sudden fortissimo in the middle of a concerto after a relatively steady soft section—he’s impossible to ignore, annoying (he won’t shut up) and attention-seeking (but he almost always gets positive attention) and outgoing and likable in ways Midorima can never hope to be. And he’s beautiful, all pouty lips and fluttering lashes and long limbs and for some reason Midorima finds it hard to look away. He’s seen pretty people before, on billboards and on TV and even in school (well, people who are supposedly pretty that in Midorima’s opinion are just normal-looking) but this is something else. He’s so close, almost in Midorima’s face, and gives Midorima no time to catch his breath and gather his wits other than to yell at him for being annoying (because he is; his personality is grating and this whole pretty fluster thing is just icing on the cake).

And Midorima doesn’t think about other people and their crushes anymore—Kise’s taken over his brain, that annoying voice and that smile, the way his hands might feel if Midorima touched them, all soft because of the lotion he uses and—Midorima exhales sharply, enough to make the person sitting next to him shift in her seat and narrow her eyes at him and he looks forward, straight, as if his eyes are on a plane with the teacher’s writing even though he’s not really seeing any of it because all he can think about is Kise. It’s a weird feeling, almost like a physical illness but not really, hard to place and uncomfortable—but there’s nothing he can do about it. It would be silly to talk about it; there’s no reason he should think so much about Kise. There’s no reason he should think about Kise’s hands anyway, unless they’re passing him the ball (which they usually aren’t in the first place) so—why?

He’s still preoccupied with thoughts of Kise’s hand, his face, his eyes, that he loses his round of shogi against Akashi even more quickly than usual. Akashi frowns at him.

“Midorima, are you feeling all right?”

“I’m fine,” he says, thumbing the seam on his pants.

“You don’t look too good, Mido-chin,” says Murasakibara through a mouth full of crackers.

Midorima thinks about telling him not to talk with food in his mouth again, but he is still feeling a tiny bit out of it—and his thoughts flicker to Kise again, the way he stands (poses) with his hand in his pocket leaning against the wall, the way his voice would sound close to Midorima’s ear.

“Here,” says Murasakibara, breaking off a few squares of chocolate from the bar that’s been sitting on the desk, and placing them in Midorima’s palm. “Eat.”

Kise’s advertised this chocolate; his picture is on those posters, his manicured hands holding a bar and that brilliant smile on his face like an LED fixture—no, a strobe light, eyes wide and hair perfectly shining and there’s no way Midorima can eat this thinking of Kise, but he sticks the chocolate in his mouth anyway and then wonders if maybe Kise tastes like this and that thought is so inappropriate he almost chokes on the chocolate.

“Midorima?”

He puts up a hand and staggers to his feet.

“I think…I should go to the nurse…I really don’t feel well…”

Miraculously, neither Murasakibara nor Akashi tries to follow him. He spits the chocolate into the trash can, shoulders shaking as he tries to steady himself against the wall. He’s heard boys saying things like that before, boys in his class, wondering about how a certain girl might taste if they were to kiss her (but how would anyone even taste someone else from a kiss?) and somehow Midorima might be okay with kissing Kise even if he does taste like that chocolate. And he wants to hold Kise’s hand, feel how soft it is, and—

“Midorimacchi?”

Midorima blinks and looks up. A frown is creasing Kise’s features.

“Why are you leaning on the wall? Are you okay?”

He’s close now; Midorima can smell that designer cologne he always spritzes on after practice, way too much so the locker room always smells like it and somehow Midorima inhales too much half the time but now it’s just a pleasant sort of distraction from the middle school hall.

“Kise,” says Midorima. “I…I think I have a crush on you.”

It’s so stupid; by the time it’s out of his mouth he’s more mortified than before and he feels his face heating up like a furnace is suddenly going into overdrive somewhere inside his head and he wants to disappear into the floor.

Kise’s mouth quirks upward. “Oh?”

Midorima just stares at him, afraid to look away but unable to make a move. Kise giggles and darts in, pressing his mouth to Midorima’s quickly before pulling back. He’s still grinning.

“I’ll see you at practice,” Kise says, and then he’s off to who-knows-where and Midorima’s still leaning against the wall.

He doesn’t stand up fully and leave for another ten minutes.


End file.
